mainder of the work in showing the bad effects which result from employing armies of foreigners, and in an examination of the personal qualities of a prince. The book concludes by exhorting Lorenzo to be the means of freeing Italy from the hand of the foreigner, and with the hope that Petrarch's prophecy will yet be fulfilled.

In no part of The Prince does Machiavelli support the character of the Man of the Times more than in the twelfth and thirteenth chapters. He there combats, with all the force of earnestness, the great military vice of his age-the use of mercenaries. He shows that the best supports of good laws are the people who make them, but so prevalent was the use of foreign troops, that the Italian had as difficult a task to perform in proving to his countrymen its bad effects, as had Demosthenes in proving the same to the Athenians. We can hardly appreciate the service thus rendered by the author, from the simple fact, that the effects of which he speaks were too well known to us already. But it must be recollected, that time had not yet shown to him what it has to us, and that the surest mark of a great statesman is to make known to this age what will be familiar to the next.

We do not claim that Machiavelli is so much an injured character as to be wholly free from the bad principles imputed to him. So far from it, we assert, that, probably, no other man ever has or ever will lay down a system of rules in which so many principles, contrary to true morality, can be found. But let those who assert that there is no excuse for an offense against morality, remember, that its standard is by no means a constant one. What are unsound morals to one nation are, sometimes, not so to another. A Frenchman, for instance, thinks it but proper to praise God in His church through the best selections from operas, but if, to some of our nation, the opera in its right place is an abomination, how great a moral offense would it be, transplanted to a meeting-house? As with nations, so with ages, what is the meat of one, may be the poison of another.

The times, then, as Macaulay has fully proved, are answerable for a great deal of Machiavelli's one-sided morality. We cannot agree with the author in believing that a prince has a right to keep his engagements only when it suits him, because every other ruler does the same— nor that dissimulation may be practised if the appearance of virtue be kept. But we should be cautious in taking for granted that Machiavelli himself meant what he said. He is a poor judge of human nature who always takes another at his word. We believe that Dr. Hurd (who probably got his idea from the above quoted remark of Bacon) was very

nearly right when he made Machiavelli say, in his Dialogues of the Dead, something to this effect: If you had only read my book carefully, you would have seen that I tell what men do, not what they ought to do.

No one of the present day can but admire some of the principles set forth in The Prince. Such as, There is no better fortress for a prince than the affection of the people-A wise prince should at all times so conduct himself, that at all times, his subjects may feel the want of his directing hand. Apothegms like these, make their appearance on every page, but, as the grandeur of mountains is sometimes modified by intervening mists, so the truth of these sayings is often obscured by the lingering gloom of previous immorality. Enterprise and industry, respect for religion, economy and rigid justice, in a word, all those virtues indispensable to the support of the state, find in this work encouragement and praise.

It is a remarkable fact, that since the revolutions of the last century, and the consequent dissemination of the principles of popular liberty, the works of Machiavelli have been more read and better appreciated, than in the whole two hundred years before. This may, in part, be accounted for by the greater progress of printing, but, however easy it may be to print books now, they are not brought out unless called for. The real cause, to us, lies in the increased determination of the human mind to think and decide for itself. It is to be hoped, that still greater attention will be paid to the works of the greatest of the Italian statesmen, and that some of the writers of this nation will give to the world the results of their study of him viewed as an ardent Republican. That the Florentine Secretary would stand in the right light, is certain, and the world would then acknowledge his claims to the praise graven on his tombstone:

Tanto nomini nullum par eulogium.

E. G. S.

Our Debates.

COÖRDINATE with the disciplinary instruction of our Collegiate system, we may fairly rank our large Debating Societies. From the com mencement, far back, when our forefathers wisely laid the coarse stones of intellectual culture in this Commonwealth, our Societies sprung up, flourished and became even peculiar features of this Institution. They

are based in a just and commendable hypothesis. Education signifies more than the bare development of intellectual vigor. Shall a man be half educated? Dull apprenticeship to "the Gerund Grinders," patient sufferance through mathematical affliction may be necessary and profitable. This is not all. There is a practical standard of valuation, in our time, which measures and approves or rejects all education.

The wise system of education here is unassailable in the main. It is disciplinary. But any advantages, secured from the uses of acquired discipline, are entirely or wisely left to the option of the student. Hence the incomparable benefits of our large Societies. Under the guidance of Instructors the rich, solid ones of culture are laboriously sought out and secured. Beyond this it is left to the student, acting according to his various motives, to shape and sharpen and burnish these dull, yet valuable masses into keen and glittering Damascus blades of Ready Use.

This is precisely the relation which exists between our system of Instruction and our large Societies. Together they aim at the education of the whole man, and he who unwisely neglects the one to reap greater profit from the other, not only takes a narrow view of education, but will, in time, reap thorns from the very tree he planted in error and folly.

A generation back, and the Collegiate who marched into the world, with a "sheepskin" banner, woven by his Alma Mater, aloft, beheld it victorious almost as Napoleon Eagles. In our mobile, nervous process of civilization, it has now lost its privilege. From the factory, the farm, the flat-boat, the hovel, men come thronging into the crowded avenues of life, reliant in no antecedents, turning the scale of fortune and failure by the bare force of individual character. One may talk of Aldevaran, and Boötes, and the Pleiades; repeat from memory the name of every hamlet in Asia Minor and India, "know more of Homer than Homer knew," but it is only the talk of a parrot now-a-days. As each man steps out from the quiet, dreamy years of College life, into the seething, jostling masses of active life, the first question that startles him from his Joseph like dream is rudely put, "What can you do?"— not, what do you know? There are Encyclopedias rich in knowledgenot, have you trained up properly your mind? Your mental machinery may be perfect, yet, like the Chinese steam engine, not be capable of action. Discipline, like moneyed capital, may be necessary. The sure encroachment of unavoidable expense will gradually impair it. But we ask, can a man improve his capital? Can he invest it well, and obtain

quick returns? or are the "three per cents," the limits of his speculations Capital then of any kind is profitless business. There are hundreds of "appointment men" scattered over this Republic, endowed with intellects of high training,-mathematical and classical minds, forever waiting for opportunities, deficient in that burnished efficiency of intellect, which only comes from constant use in earlier years, men who can think vigorously but cannot write attractively, who may write elegantly but cannot speak powerfully.

Surely no man, possessed of extended experience, will fail to admit the utility of the Debater's Art. Primary meetings, political conventions, legislative assemblies, jubilant national occasious, public dinners, Agricultural, Literary, and Scientific Associations, and greater yet-the Pulpit and the Bar, are the arenas upon which an educated man may be summoned at any moment. Is not then, that part of our Collegiate course which looks to these important conditions of life worthy of the highest patronage?

Why is it then (for it is useless and unworthy to conceal the fact) that our debates have degenerated the past few years, or have never risen in merit above their present condition? In those lofty halls, forever consecrated to the warm eloquence of young hearts, swayed by noble aspirations, in the rich adornments of taste, and chaste decorations, there can be found nothing wanting to charm the eye and enkindle the soul. Yet each and every one of us says in his heart, "our debates are not what they should be." We will not here, at any length, discuss the Prize Debates. They have been sufficiently commented upon elsewhere. "War to the knife," should be declared against them. In the process of "bringing men out," we forgot that the preeminence of the few results in the depression of many. Hero worship we love too well, as all men do. But we often find ourselves looking up to men, not tried, like gold in the fire, but through the feeble and incomplete test of a Prize Debate, easily raised upon pedestals of honor, pigmies upon Alps, but to our admiring gaze pigmies no longer. The award of three umpires has woven their wreaths, and they are content, neither to enter the lists, to make themselves more graceful chaplets, nor to abide by the trying and sure tests of real merit, in the ordinary debates. Whoever heard of a Prize Debate out of College, or a single, solitary victory of intellect, which elevated a man for life? "Single speech Hamiltons" are rare indeed. The problem of our Prize Debates is this. Given: a dozen ambitious men,-six weeks' preparation-books and newspapers innumerable-some honest men relying upon themselves, others on books

and pamphlets, and others still on convenient friends-three umpires of widely different tastes, compelled to decide on a dozen different pieces rapidly delivered-who will take the prize ?-leaving the remainder to chafe over bitter disappointment. There is no uncertainty here,-uncertainty which is the very life of contest. The highest honor of the Societies must be given to the prize man. There is no question about it. Men of strong sense, endowed with great acuteness, and persevering throughout in self-culture, are unequal to him. He is a marked man.

There is a want of earnestness in our debates. Removed, as we are, far away from the arena of political and sectional strife, we look out through loop-holes on the great questions that "shake mankind." It is natural that it should be so. Yet it need only be said that the traits of an effective orator consist in the reality with which he invests his subjects, as Burke declaimed on Indian affairs, as though he were on the very spot, amid the tumult of strife raging there. Debating should not. be a duty only. When it assumes such a shape it becomes a drudgery. It abjures that bond of feeling which connects man to man. The requirements of duty would be discharged should one address a post.

Nor is there sufficient thought bestowed upon the questions in our debates. Keen analytical argument, condensed statements, clear and perspicuous arrangement, apt illustration, are grand and frequent deficiencies. There is a want of the metaphysical method of treating,not the foggy, meaningless combination of general expressions, so conspicuous in many of our essayists-but the metaphysical treatment of subjects, as Mackintosh defined it," nothing more than the employment of good sense, in observing our own thoughts, feelings and actions." This arises, frequently, from mistaken views regarding the character of extemporaneous speaking. Many regard it as a knack of speaking offhand, without previous preparation. There are men, yet rarely do they appear, whose mental organization is such that they possess a wonderful facility in the vigorous discussion of subjects in an off-hand method. It is only after years of close application, and a power attained by constant practice, that it can be acquired. Unlike poetry, it does not come by inspiration. Chatham might flash upon a subject by the "lightning of his mind "—but the vast majority of debaters must be content to labor and study ere they reach preeminence in the art. We think extemporaneous debate consists in profound thought, clear conception, natural arrangement, and fit illustration prepared before hand, and a ready and graceful delivery of these without the mechanical aid of memory and the assistance of written matter.